


The One Where Brendon Uses the Blonde Mating Call

by fiddleyoumust



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here, have some PWP Jon/Brendon. This is for Shirley who cries at night because there isn't enough fic with her OTP in it. I heart you. Unbetaed because it's 1:20 in the morning. I hope the kissing distracts you enough that you don't notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Brendon Uses the Blonde Mating Call

Brendon's only been doing this whole rock start thing for a couple of years, but he's managed to rack up the experiences pretty quickly in such a short time.

He got his first blow job in the apartment Pete put them up in when they were writing the first record. Brendon remembers feeling like a complete loser; a dejected, pathetic virgin who would never get laid. He whined about it so often in those weeks, cramped and uncomfortable and living on top of each other, that Spencer heaved the most put upon sigh Brendon has ever heard to this day, and shoved him into the tiny bathroom. Brendon knew it was a pity blow job, but he didn't really think that was reason enough to complain as he watched Spencer slide to his knees.

He took his first drink straight from Pete Wentz's hand and then proceeded to drunkenly talk about music with a very sober Patrick until his tongue got so twisted that Ryan got embarrassed enough to haul him off to an empty bedroom to sleep it off.

"You're so embarrassing," Ryan hissed as he tucked Brendon into an empty bed.

"Whatever," Brendon whispered. "Come make out with me."

Ryan rolled his eyes and then climbed in the bed with Brendon.

He lost his virginity at the end of their first tour in Bill's bunk on a random Tuesday night. It was good sex and Brendon learned how to give a pretty decent blow job that's kept him from wanting any number of companions over the years.

It's been a never ending parade of experiences, each one better than the one before, but nothing, absolutely nothing, has been able to top getting drunk with Jon Walker. There's nothing better in the world, and so, Brendon tries to do it as often as is humanly possible.

Jon's really fun when he's drunk and this sometimes leads to inexplicable situations like Brendon and Jon climbing up the side of Panic's bus at three o'clock in the morning to look at the stars.Jon is all soft vowel sounds and slurred words tonight and Brendon likes to listen to him talk, his tongue thick and heavy, awkward in his mouth.

"Pretty stars," Jon says and he has his fingers in Brendon's hair, the tips moving lightly along Brendon's scalp.

Brendon arches into the touch and he feels a little bit like Jon's cat which makes him want to purr and snuggle. He's pretty sure Jon would make fun of him for the first but Jon's an affectionate guy and he rarely turns down snuggles even when he's sober.

Brendon rolls closer to Jon, takes in a sharp breath when his shirt rides up a little and the cold metal of the bus touches along his side and belly. "You're pretty," Brendon says once he's close enough to tuck his face into the sweaty skin of Jon's neck.

Jon laughs and turns his head until his lips are touching the side of Brendon's face and he presses his lips to the apple of Brendon's cheek, says in his quiet slur, "Says the pretty boy front man."

"I'm so drunk," Brendon says sloppily and this somehow translates to Jon as, "I need more to drink," because Jon reaches over and grabs the bottle of Vodka they brought with them and hands it to Brendon.

Brendon sits up a little until he's hovering over Jon and he takes a giant swig out of the bottle, lets the liquid slide smoothly down his throat.

"Hey, share," Jon says and Brendon feels a little bit of the liquor slide out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin and suddenly Jon leans up and licks along the seam of Brendon's lips. Brendon gasps and Jon takes that as an invitation to lick his way inside.

Brendon's sure that they both taste like Vodka, but Jon tastes like Jon too and the flavor makes Brendon moan into Jon's mouth until Jon is pulling away to say, "More," against Brendon's lips.

Brendon takes another swig of Vodka and puts the bottle down, lets the liquid pool in his mouth until Jon leans up again and steals the sip straight from Brendon's lips.

After that, the bottle gets forgotten for making out. Jon is not only fun and awesome when he's drunk, but he's also a very, very good kisser. It's soft and slow and really, really thorough. They kiss for so long that Brendon doesn't have any idea how long they've been doing it and he only has the presence of mind to think about it when he feels Jon reach between them to press on his own cock with the heel of his hand.

Jon hisses against Brendon's lips and yeah, okay, Brendon's cock is hard now too and he's got a soft, pliant, Jon Walker underneath him with his own erection straining against the denim of his jeans. If either one of them wanted to use their own hands, they could have stayed in their bunks and saved a perfectly good bottle of Vodka.

Brendon kisses Jon again and moves over a few inches until their cocks are lined up and then he presses his hips down hard. Jon whimpers and his hips buck off the ground involuntarily.

"Fuck, fuck," Jon says, his breath coming out in quick, short bursts.

Brendon's brain is on fire now a constant roar of _now, now, now, right fucking now_ screaming in his head.

Jon works his hand between them and palms Brendon's cock through his pants, his fingers trying to find space between their bodies to work Brendon's zipper down.

"No!" Brendon says a little too loudly and Jon freezes, his hand trapped between them, a look of confusion on his face. He whines a little in the back of his throat and pushes his hips up again making both of them groan together.

Brendon pulls Jon's hand out from between their bodies and takes both of Jon's wrists in his hands, stretches them out above Jon's head and pins them there. Jon is watching him with dark, hot eyes, and Brendon says, "Like this," against Jon's mouth. "No hands."

Jon moans his agreement and Brendon presses his hips down, works a thigh into the space between Jon's legs and starts rubbing in earnest. He keeps one hand on Jon's wrists even though Jon's not trying to escape and nips at the scratchy skin of Jon's neck until his lips feel scrapped and raw.

"Fuck," Jon says again. He pushes up into Brendon every time Brendon presses down and the friction feels amazing. It's all too much, Jon's breath hot in Brendon's ear, Jon's sweat on his tongue and the intense pressure of Jon's hips pressing up into Brendon's cock.

"I'm gonna... " Brendon says, panting in Jon's ear. "I can't... I have to."

Jon nods and bites his bottom lip and thrusts up two more times before he's coming between them, wet and messy. Brendon feels him go slack beneath him and there's something so hot about watching Jon Walker lose it that Brendon doesn't last, can't last, and he presses his hips down hard and comes with Jon's names on his lips.

It takes them a few minutes to get their breath back and then Brendon rolls over, lets the metal of the bus cool the sweat on his back. "We should get drunk more often," Brendon says, turning to smile at Jon.

Jon laughs and says, "Or, we could try it sober next time."

Brendon makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and says, "Do you know how much laundry we'd have to do?"

Jon laughs again and pulls Brendon over to him, says between kisses, "I was thinking we'd try it with less clothing next time."

"Oh!" Brendon says happily. "Well, why didn't you just say so."


End file.
